Red Meeting White
by Deidari
Summary: Beyond the urban lifestyle is where Dahlia lives and breathes while taking care of the birds around her. Hunting season is coming and she plans for the worst, but what does happen isn't anything she ever thought possible. Besides to herself and the animals she protects, Dahlia's never talked to another person till now. He's only going to mess up her plans...
1. Little Red Feather

**This is my first fanfiction story and the idea has been tumbling around inside my head for a bit, so I had to do it. Dahlia is my own character and I hope she comes across as real as a fictional character can go to you and be an inspiration to all you young people out there *Grins* I'll try not to describe things too much or too little and if I am, please tell me so that I may fix that up in the next chapter. And here we GO.**

The shot echoes far across the forest, alerting the young woman up in the trees. A scowl set low on her features, pulling back to reveal several sharp teeth. She knows what is going on and it doesn't take long for her presence to arrive where the noise came from. What she sees destroys the anger settled in her.

A tiny red bird lay in the fresh snow, feathers ruffled from it's fall to the earth. It's little black eyes stare helplessly as she approaches to aid the bird, picking it up in her capable hands. A chirp comes out in greeting.

Her place in the world was as important as any of Mother Nature's children, caring for the animals. Birds, to be specific.

"It's alright. I've got you." The bundle of red curls up to her chest the most it could, feeling the warmth radiate into each other. She can only smile at the comfort before standing up from the snowy blanket, hearing another noise not too far off. The next second she is gone.

Her name was Dahlia.

She gave the birds their ability to fly and make nests, sing and cry. Everything they do is all because of this woman, so frail like them. Her bones stay light to allow those high jumps across the tree heights while her hair remains thick for warmth. Keen eyes look over her shoulder, listening for any noise that nature does not produce.

She knows they can be anywhere's, waiting for another of them to soar up into the clear blue sky. The things she has seen were always shocking, no matter how many times they were witnessed. The rich blood meeting the clear white snow, staining it, sent Dahlia in fits, emptying her stomach. These little creatures depend on her, so blinded to everything.

They don't know they can die, so high up in the sky.

She makes it a good distance away, stopping by a creek. The weather is chilly and being in the open only makes her skin shiver.

Any detail is analized, from the shimmering water and the ice glazed shore to the light blue sky and it's dispersing white clouds.

"The snow is settling. Maybe I can see your wing now?" The words come out quiet, hoping not to startle the bird so comfortable in her arms. Understanding her, it lets Dahlia look, frowning at the damage. "You won't be able to take the skies for a while. I will help you." The last part makes her smile.

Back at her home, a tree house most people would call it, there are plenty more birds lying in wait for Dahlia's return. Many are baby chicks without a mother to nestle them, but others are just injured, taking roost to heal.

They all chorus many fine notes of welcome to her return, so many singing to their one and only caretaker.

"Did you miss me?" She coos to a pair of featherless robins, both staring back at her with giant eyes and clapping beaks.

Everyone of them are in her hands, a sense of responsibility rising with each passing day.

Soon, the real difficult part of her job would be coming in. January is only just around the corner and already hunters were storming in with their guns full of powder and greed. They come around every year, hoping to score big on all the animals the woods has to offer. A certain child of nature though is at fault for their bullets only missing their prey by a hair or their guns jamming up. It's part of her job to keep the little guys safe in any way necessary.

Sometimes she would not be there in time and a man would cheer over his trophy, holding up a duck by the feet. That is the worst feeling one could ever have.

Inside her home, safe from the blowing winds and snow piled up outside, Dahlia sets to work at finding an empty nest for the little bird to settle in. A red cardinal, maybe a few months old.

"You're so sweet," She giggles as the bird picks at her finger tips. "I'll call you Mary." An old fashioned name to be simple. The other fifty or so birds in there also have names, pretty straightforward as well.

As the day decides to turn into night, Dahlia lights the lanterns. They light a dull orange glow, warming the sleepy birds. She loves this part, watching them all, but there is work to be done...

**Second chapter coming out soon. :D**


	2. Hunting New Prey

**Second chapter up, woo! Please tell me what you think in the review box and hope to have another chapter up by tomorrow.**

The men call to the ones beside them, taking down bottles of beer and leaving the glass behind their tents. They were to be forgotten and left for nature to suffer with. There are six men in total, all dressed in camouflage whites and blues, matching the terrain; like they belong in it. Truly, Dahlia knows they are not woodmen by the rich smell of cologne on their skin. Just a bunch of businessmen on a weekend vacation.

"They are not even hunting us for food. Only entertainment." Something deeper than just irritation burns through her veins, muscles tensing up at the sight of their drunken faces. Without another word she walks right into the campsite, feeling the bonfire warm her up even further.

"I'm telling' ya, Johnny, my man. I hit that birdie right outta that sky and it came down like a teensy little missile, just for me!" A man tries to make up for a blunder to his hunting companions, spewing half his beer in the process. He was definitely the most drunk out of all of them. "But when I wen' ta go check on eet, thee bugger was gone like a ghost!" The others simply laugh, probably not even hearing half of what the man said.

"Mary is safe now, because of me, and not in your greedy little hands." Dahlia mutters to herself as she heads over to their tents. They wouldn't notice if she took a little of their supplies, would they?

"Only a beet of blood was there, waitin' fer me! I could not believe me eyes!" The laughing and yelling continues on and she blocks it out.

When trying to find things in the dark was difficult, it was especially hard with your back put towards the only light source around. Dahlia feels sleeping bags still wrapped up, open granola bars, and bullet boxes, but they were empty as well. Nothing of value lied in the open for her small hands to snatch up.

"Where can I find anything to steal around here?" Being a thief is wrong and she knows that, but what these men do is worse. Her sin could be covered by theirs. At least that's what she thinks.

Diving deeper into the tent of darkness as she liked to call it, Dahlia felt for anything valuable, something to maybe throw away over the local cliff.

The act may seem like nothing, but doing so just might get the one hunter off his game for tomorrow, miss a few times, and quit out of frustration. Her powers were nothing impressive after all, so being a disturbance is usually the next course of action.

Through the constant rush of thoughts running in her head, Dahlia's hands lie on a link of metal shards, a round cut of glass on the side.

"What are you?" She puts it up to her ear, listening to it's heartbeats. "You're alive?" The object astounded her by the odd way it moved, a stick going in slow circles behind the glass wall. The object just keeps beating, filling her sensitive ears with the constant noise. It is almost... calming.

"Wait up fer me guys, I gotta go take myself fer a bit of a leak behind the tent." That man. Dahlia raises her head to watch his shadow through the tent screen, the fire lighting him up as a silhouette. Before he can do his business Dahlia is already out of the tent and heading up towards the other five. They hung around the fire, the buzz of alcohol dying down.

"Good. We can finally get some rest from your bawling and bellowing." It's nice when they can't hear her.

Their quick burst of confidence and blurry excitement has died down to a dull level of anything related to emotion, sitting by the fire with nothing else to do but stare up at the sky. That does not appear to be such a bad idea to Dahlia, who tilts her head back and up to the sky, filling her lungs with crisp cool air.

Up in the sky, a moon stares down on them, it's expressionless face smiling down on Dahlia. The Man in the Moon as she's known it as for all her life to be exact. A good two hundred years or so, give or take a few nature filled years for her.

He had brought Dahlia into the world, resting her in Mother Nature's arms. That day was her rebirth from death to have a greater purpose and fill the skies with freedom and delight for the birds of the world. So small and clueless, Mother Nature risen up all that Dahlia had been, all except for any social skills. The other hundred or so children of Mother Nature talk only to her and no one else. No siblings talk to each other; it's just how it's always been. Perhaps it is to save their minds from any corruption of the others thoughts and opinions, keeping them pure.

Still, despite their lack of contact, Dahlia misses them.

The Man in the Moon stays silent, just looking back. Even the moon wouldn't talk to her.

Dahlia lets a head down to the melted slush on the fire's behalf and takes note of her feet. They are the only thing that make her different from people, besides being dead and then brought back to life. They are that of a bird's up to the knees, three talons digging into the dirt and one at the heel for balance. No feathers really grow on her, odd considering she is the caretaker for birds.

Dahlia wonders just how human she is deep down, like these hunters causing trouble in her forest, who care for no species beyond their own? No. She could never be like them. Dahlia cares for over ten thousand species beyond her own; whatever she is.

"I can't be one of a kind." Dahlia runs a finger across the top of the log, picking the dirt out of the bark; a distraction from that feeling in her gut.

One man's voice takes her out of her thinking process. "What are we going after tomorrow?"

"Moose, maybe some wolf and fox if they come around." Another takes back a swish of beer, grumbling when there's only a few drops at the tip of his tongue. "Wife wants a nice coat for New Years to show off to her friends."

"I hear ya."

She doesn't have the right to watch over mammals like the ones they mentioned. This was part of the job, restraining from taking over a sibling's work. If they wanted those animals safe from the hunters then they'd have to come and do something; Dahlia couldn't handle safeguarding more than they she had to do already.

Night begins to draw in on them, the men stumbling to their tents, and getting ready to call it a day. Even Dahlia felt it drawing on her, that feeling of heaviness in her limbs when her climbs up that massive tree to get in her wooden home.

"So... cozy." Some birds flutter their wings when she falls forward, resting on the floorboards. "I'm okay." She doubts that the bird's got the message when it comes out so droned out and muffled.

"I don't think I can make it to my bed." Maybe staying out so late, over a good two miles away, was a bad idea. "I had to make sure you guys will be safe." What she said is true, seeing that she found out the men would target big game tomorrow. Her birds would be alright. At least for now.

Dahlia rolls slowly onto her back, tired as a sloth. While she look up at the thick straw ceiling a certain red cardinal hops out of it's nest on the wall and makes it's way to Dahlia. It picks at her hair, taking out any leaves it can find to try and help out in any way. Soon, after noticing the girl has fallen asleep, the bird cuddles up to her side, chirping a few notes.

One could wonder how Dahlia stays warm in those bitter cold months in a simple red dress. She would wear scarves and hats, but some nights were questionable to a blizzard, caging Dahlia up in her own place. Many though, have come to guess that this bird protector does not mind the winter or even the blistering summer, never a single degree hindering her attitude. Very few though really know of her weakness, deeper than just by external means...

So here in her home, Dahlia rests on the cold floorboards, waiting for tomorrow's sun to rise...


	3. A Potential Meeting

**The story takes a step forward here, so thank you for making it this far, ladies and gentlemen. *bows* A little note for you all to know is I'm going for a more nature in touch sort of story than other ROTG stories people post up. Descriptions on everything within nature are beneficial to getting that feeling. Thank you all for patient thus far and enjoy Chapter 3!**

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Down by that familiar creek is where Dahlia stands, listening softly to the water as it sputters and runs down from the hills. This sound opens her up to the day ahead every morning with it's pleasant noise, letting her open up slowly from a long night of rest. Although, she does wish her sleeping arrangements could have been different.

The sky is orange as the sun begins to rise as well. All the snow covered trees are tinted by the fiery color their branches dragged down by winter's weight.

Just down the creek, twenty feet away from the sleepy bird spirit, a family of Canadian geese are playing in the water, splashing up broken ice. The geese cock their heads to the side at the sight of the others leaving, shuffling their way out of the water to a slush filled shore. They call out a few times and with a ruffle of their wings they are up in the sky, heading off.

Dahlia lifts her clear eyes up to the sky, squinting when only freezing rain hits her face. It's different from the light snow that fell the day before, heavier. She knows moving about the woods would be harder today, figuring when it turns to ice she will only slip and fall; not all that safe.

"I'll help them out." She thinks of the birds sleeping away their worries, nibbling on the red berries and seeds Dahlia found for them. "I haven't been giving them enough attention. Yes, I'll do that." A sound at the other side of the creek comes across louder than the rumbling water, causing her to jump to her feet quicker than usual. "Who's there?"

Obviously, no one responds to her but the constant flow of the creek, not giving any answers.

She hears it again, that sound.

"What is that?" She can barely hear herself over the wind that picks up at that moment, causing her body to shiver.

Whether it be from the cold, fear, or adrenaline she can not tell, Dahlia knows she has to get over there.

Nature supplies plenty of rocks in the flow of the creek, letting her jump from one to the next. She seems to be doing well, making it two thirds of the way there, when she hears a another loud boom. Arms fly like propellers in the air, Dahlia trying to reclaim her balance on the already slippery smooth surface. That feeling a person gets that their life is over and their life flashes before their eyes happens to Dahlia, who closes her eyes in wait for the freezing cold water.

Nothing.

She waits for something to happen involving heavy, wet hair and pains from rocks in her side, but there is nothing. Only an ice sheet.

"This was flowing water a few seconds ago," Confused, yet thankful, Dahlia bows her head to the luck that allowed her to land on it. Oddly, the rest of the creek still flowed with rushing water, the space behind her being the only area of ice.

A third shot.

She easily distinguishes the noise by the flock of birds climbing up into the brightening sky.

"Don't go," A low whisper leaves her lips right before one of those birds falls right back towards the earth. Seconds later she hears the men cheering at their catch.

The rest of the flock fly up over her head in an arrow shape, calling out as they do.

"I'm sorry." Once again, she let those hunters take another and was unable to do anything. "Please forgive me."

The look on her face easily spells out her plan as she trudges through the trees and right up to where the men had set up for the day. They couldn't see her, so why did Dahlia have to care about them seeing her?

"Could stealing another of your things persuade you to leave them alone?"

A man stands off to the side of the other five, rubbing his wrist while looking out into the deep, dark woods. He appears uneasy, not as upbeat as his buddies. Oh the wonders of the wilderness, deceiving him. Dahlia is somewhat proud of him to finally realize this place isn't a playground for men and their guns; people can get lost if they didn't have the right tools...

Dahlia pulls a rectangular device out from it's zippered up case. The booklet with it says something about it being a GPS, whatever that means. Sounds important. Slipped into the satchel on her her hip and Dahlia is up into the trees before the hunters see this piece of equipment is gone.

"Why do I bother hiding?" She says aloud, hoping for something to return. Not a single word. This steady awareness of her meaning in the world hurt deep; never to be seen by anyone but Mother Nature and her siblings. Even they are not around for Dahlia though, letting her live out her life alone with a bunch of birds. Sure, she loves to help them, but what about a real conversation? She wouldn't get that from these buffoons any time soon.

"Do you know where the camp is?"

"I think over that way."

"No it isn't."

"Don't tell me we're lost!"

"If you didn't lose the GPS then we'd be fine!" The hunters help break up a potential fight, getting between the two.

So that's what this thing is. Dahlia handles it carefully, rolling it between her hands for inspection. Thin cords of a million colors hang off the back of the device, sparking her interest. "I'd like to see how this works..."

Off with her second prize from the raging group of men, Dahlia is jumping tree to tree, her talons digging into the icy bark of each branch. It crunches under the pressure of her talons, emitting a smile. Her revival mutation can be good for something.

The trip back home takes longer than the night before, seeing as the hunters traveled out further from her tree house rather than closer; an extra kilometer to go. Pushing back the thick curtain, ducking down under the low entrance, Dahlia raises her head to find winter found it's way in.

Shocked, she rushes up to the birds, all huddling together in the center nest where Dahlia would sleep. So... cold.

"How...?" The room had been warm only a few hours before, no sign of snowfall any where's. Now it was full of frost, built up on the interior like crystallized spiderwebs. And here, birds of many shapes and sizes are staying together for warmth, looking up at Dahlia, waiting for her assistance. "What am I supposed to do?" Her home has been made to keep this sort of stubborn weather out, but obviously is not doing it's one assignment-

A single bird, Benny, chirps up to Dahlia, trying to get her attention else where's then in her own head. Fast on the draw Dahlia turns 180 degrees towards the curtain which swings back into place...

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**Oh, the mystery *unsure if sarcasm or not* Thank you for reading!**


	4. An Unusual Facedown

**Chapter four finally! ^-^ Please enjoy and I appreciate your patience up to now! I swear it gets 'interesting' soon!**

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The large nest greets Dahlia late in the night instead of the cold floor, straw and leaves poking her cheek and brow. That nightly problem was not what wakes the bird girl, no. It is the noises from outside the safety of her home, surprisingly not gunshots or shouts from the hunters. Just what is it then?

Looking upon a certain thick curtain for a door reminds her of earlier; someone had been here.

"I swear if you came back, you have issues. Plenty of them." Dry from a lack of moisture, her voice cracks on the words, but she pulls herself up none the less.  
A loud shuffle on the balcony, not even ten feet away. She is vulnerable to it if it's dangerous. The thoughts of some vicious creature makes the bird spirit jump back, cringing as the wood creaks under her feet.

"Shh." What a thing to say.

Another shuffle. Now it lies just outside the curtain; it even sways slightly when the intruder draws a hair's length away from it.

So close.

The heart beating in her chest is going twice as fast, yelling at her to go see who or what is there.

"Please don't be scary. Please don't be scary." This little prayer runs by her lips so fast that even Dahlia can barely understand it.

The distance from her spot to the door is next to impossible to walk, but she makes it, placing a shaking hand on the curtain's edge.

"One... Two..." Even before reaching 'three' she already has the thin barrier thrown back so hard it almost falls off the railing holding it up.

Nothing but the nighttime woods meet her eye.

"Really?" Maybe she is not getting enough sleep. Dahlia puts both hands to her face, feeling stupid. Who in the right mind would get up and check for crazy people at this time in the night? The fact that she lives in a forest is something to add in as well. "I must be idiotic to think that." Then she laughs, but it is not all that joyful. "I'm losing my mind..."

Almost like a slug not meant to have woken up so early, Dahlia begins to let herself back into the tree house when her ears pick up a noise. It whistled, coming closer. Within that slight rise of panic, Dahlia drops the curtain back into place just in time for the projectile to hit it, saving herself from the blow.

"What was that? I don't know," She's questioning herself in a slight haze, not remembering seeing a single moving thing out there. Yet there has to be. The pile of snow just outside her home's entrance said enough. "What were they trying to do? Kill me with snow?" Sleep is already hard enough with the past few nights on her back; another distraction to that sleep is not needed.

The trees hide like a shadowy silhouette to the rest of the inky night, only revealing themselves as lantern light hits off their snow covered branches. These very trees keep the other animals secure in the dark crevices of their arms, losing it's efficiency to do so as Dahlia shines her gas lit lantern around in hopes of spotting her intruder. Now, the forest itself may not be her's initially, but Dahlia is sworn to protect everything in it along with the rest of any flying beings in the world, and this person would not be invading on her watch.

Determination overpowered Dahlia's lack of rest, pushing her that one more step forward through the whiteness. It didn't help the snow has begun to pick up, cutting her vision in half when the flakes constantly go into her eyes. "Where are you hiding?" The words are picked up in the air before even she can hear them.  
Off in the surrounding trees there is a noise, light and like a song. It is only a bird.

The tension is gone instantly and is replaced with shame instead. Hunters do not come out at this time. As if she thought they did. While pawing over these thoughts, mentally hitting herself for them, Dahlia climbs skyward on the rope ladder leading to the massive tree. "This is absurd." It takes a long time to get back up and onto the deck, pulling the ratty old rope up. No need to give the hunters a chance to find her place and-

She hears it again, that noise in the wind. This time, Dahlia is at ear level with it, receiving the sound at a higher level. The trees; it is in the trees! The adrenaline kicks in just as another projectile from before flies right for her and Dahlia jumps back. The cotton based shield moves aside as her back hits against it's thick cotton surface and it falls back into place in time for the wintery weapon to hit it. The second time this makeshift door saves her today.

The noise, caught up in the wind so light and cheerful is out in the trees, calling to her. The already vicious blizzard outside is beginning to increase in magnitude, caging Dahlia in her own home. Going outside is a bad idea.

Every bird feels their caretaker's stress building and they respond with a mix of songs to try and cheer her up. Most of the time this would work, but not right now. If anything, the notes of beauty are now a mess of notes strung wrong on an instrument. Dahlia does not know what kind; her mind is too occupied to think of music.

"Why are you here?" Strung tight by exhaustion already in her nerves, Dahlia's passive behaviour is gone in place for a more impatient, unsettled kind.

Surprisingly, the being outside replies back to her. "You can't have fun in there! You should come out!"

Fists tighten up and she snaps back, "Maybe if it was not so windy!"

Many don't have to worry about what Dahlia does. Being so light, she could sail up off her feet and onto her face with a single whoosh of wind. The possibility of even stepping outside now is out of the question.

"Wuss!"

The word escapes her. What did it mean again?

"Just leave!" Her bottom lip is shaking, feeling like the curtain of a door might tear off it's rail any second. The safety of the birds are her only priority. "You're not welcome here!"

A sage thrasher calls out a commotion of chimes out to Dahlia, catching her attention immediately. After hearing it call and see it flap it's wings, the bird spirit nods in agreement. "Yes. That might work." The seemingly proud bird goes back to burying itself amidst the mix of other species, begging for warmth while Dahlia digs through a chest.

The wooden box was big and old, set beside her own nest for far too long. The dust around the bottom of the storage box is evidence enough of that. The metal rimmed lid creaks like it did every time under Dahlia's shaky hands, saying hello in it's own special way. Inside, her eyes brisk over the items hiding inside, including the object she found yesterday with a beating heart some where's inside of it, water canteens, bread packets, something called 'Jerky', which she guess is some kind of meat, and some clothing items. All of them are precious to her in one way or another, not just because she slipped them away from the hunters. They are supplies to keep the animals she protects safe, not only as a prize.

Each arm takes it's rightful place, the thick sleeves surrounding the small girl in winter camouflage and thick padding. The jacket is meant for a full grown man, not a under grown young woman, for it reaches down to her knees and way past the ends of her fingertips. The garment perhaps might look weird on her, but she already feels the benefit of it's warmth and most definite weight.

"Now I can go face you, ya freaky little bugger." Pride is under her tone, surely proud of her plan, but doubts begin to settle. "What if I'm not fast enough? Are you scary?... What if you aren't so little?" The questions are heavy and she's already biting her lip in worry.

No. She is going to do this and there is nothing that bunch of laughter can do about it! A blend of swirling emotions and meanings left behind, the bird spirit is out the door to see this person. She has to be brave.

"Show yourself!"

At this time, Dahlia briefly notes the lack of wind and snow, making her feel like the coat may or may not have been necessary after all. The forestry around the high-up home is enclosed by an area of white and brown, making it easier said than done to spot anything. Up in the thick of the branches and darkness, Dahlia's eyes begin to adjust in time to spot it. Something white. There is possibly more to this figure, but it moves behind the tree sooner than Dahlia can indicate.

"I said show yourself!" The ability to talk is getting harder, feeling the affects of five hour rest drawing closer and closer with each passing minute. This has to be done and over with soon. At least before the sun rises.

"That's a... nice coat you got there." The slight stifle of chuckles after it throws the receiver for a slight daze, even more so at the compliment. It looks good on her?

"Thank you. I got it off some friends a while back."

This is not a time to be chit chatting. No time for playing games. Don't compliment anything about this person; they're dangerous. What is there to compliment anyways other than some repetitive laughing? Is it repetitive? "Shut it already." A harsh whisper to one's self later and his image comes into view again, more to the right this time. He moves fast for a human. "Hey!"

The snowball whacks Dahlia right to the face long before she can even raise her arm to block it.

Pain radiates up her spine when she hits the balcony floor, ignoring the fact snow now littered through her locks of hair. And down her dress. "My back..." She murmurs under her breath, seeing it come out in a white fog. "Now it's on." Two seconds later and standing once more, her eyes narrow down to slits, frustrated not being able to see this person. "I don't wanna have to find you..."

His voice drifting on the wind, starting with a light laugh. "I dare ya to try~" He says singsongy, whipping through the forest, and only leaving a trail of ice crystals on the trees.

"Try," She bends at the knees, feeling them crack. "We'll see about that."

And she's gone.


	5. A Challenge Perhaps

**Chapter five after maybe a little too long. Hehe. ^_^' Christmas, what can ya do? Now, this chapter may be short, but be sure the next will be long, probably longer than my other chapters. Yay(?)(!)**

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The once clear branches are now slick with ice from last night's drizzle, making it difficult to travel faster than usual. This is not fair.

After a healthy travel is made, jumping tree to tree, Dahlia stops to rest briefly and listen. One hand lays on the bark of a maple, fingers spread out. Mother Nature can talk to them and this is disappointing; It would be so useful right now to get the silent part of nature's say on where the intruder may be.

"You get tired easily," The voice muses from behind.

On the dime Dahlia is facing him, trying not to jump in surprise. "How did you get there?" Every muscle is tensed up at the sight. This one is not like the others that invaded the forest...

He hovers in the air, making no sound as he smiles widely at her. Ultramarine blue eyes stare back at her from under wisps of light hair, those two orbs standing out from the snowy sheen his skin held. He is winter in human form.

"Ya know, just been floatin' around." The figure kicks at the air and a huge gust of wind and snow launches him into the inky sky, baffling Dahlia. In a moment he returns, landing on the branch with his toes. "Name's Jack, by the way." He takes a bow, staff swishing fancily.

The bird spirit's eyes catch sight of winter's touch on that very staff and how it glows while in Jack's hands. Her body language is sent in a curious, yet cautious tone while eyeing this so-called Jack from a side angle. "Am I supposed to introduce myself as well?" Those quiet words become suspicious when they leave her mouth, talons gripping tighter to the branch. "You're the one who was in my home last night, were you not?"

Dahlia takes in all the icy details of him from the thick white hair moving in the gentle wind to those eyes once more. His body poised casually in blue, brown, and snow inspired fingerprints along the collar.

At her accusation, Jack shrugs innocently, that smile still in place. "Maybe. So what's your name? You must be a deity if you can see me... Heh and well I've never seen bird feet on a human before." He taps the branch with his wooden staff under Dahlia's talons, the surface going glossy from the sudden ice.

She releases one foot from the branch while keeping a small distance between herself and the freezing element. "I was born with them by the will of the moon. They help me travel. Travelling is important for me. Migrating season and all."

"Birds, right? Huh... so the moon talks to you too?" Jacks takes this time to gaze up at the moon, half visible in the evening.

As usual he is silent, but always watching.

Jacks turns back to the young woman. "Yeah, I travel a lot too, whenever I want really. Although it's always snowing wherever I go."

"I can take a guess why." Slowly, watching Jack with that one, unblinking eye, she leans against the massive tree they stand on. All the leaves are gone for the coming of winter, letting the two of them look through the mess of tiny branches and up at the creamy moon. Some time passes by and Dahlia happily absorbs the silence, grateful for it. She closes her eyes and an owl hoots off in the distance.

Unlike her, Jack is not so patient, finding himself shifting his weight from foot to foot. He then sticks his hands in his pockets. "So..." He starts, breaking the silent peace. "Will I get to learn your name or would ya prefer I call ya Birdy?"

"No. You may not call me Birdy. I am Dahlia. First name only, no last name." In no time the wind picks up, feeling like a storm would be coming in soon. This is what she deserves for following someone in the middle of a winter night. Weather like that doesn't affect Dahlia, but it did the birds; they need her company back at home. "You should go home." Talon toed feet itch to get off this branch, a arching body twitching for movement. "It's already late."

"Well, I don't really have a home." He says rather casually considering what he is saying. "I just go anywhere." Jack takes his hands out of his pockets, taking the staff in his grip again to swing it around. "So... Guess you want me to go away then?"

The question strikes a cord in Dahlia and she turns away from Jack, trying to keep her balance as she does so. She really needs to remember her duties though. "Preferably away from me. You're a stranger. Definitely around here." And she's off to the next tree, twisting around mid-air so she can land facing him. "If I knew you better I'd let you visit."

A smirk pulls at the edge of Jack's mouth, watching Dahlia disappear into the forest on her way home..

* * *

**Chapter 6 will have a lot more interaction in it. I know. 'Finally something really happens!' XD Don't worry, I'm putting a lot of work into the next chapter and it shall be out real soon. ^_-**


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